


Down the Rabbit Hole and Through the Window

by saint_troll



Series: Imperfect Armament Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saint_troll/pseuds/saint_troll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds himself more than a little enamored with Not-Cas when Balthazar transports them to another dimension to avoid capture by Raphael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by S6E15 The French Mistake. Also, I utilize a supposed split between Jensen and Daneel’s as a plot device only; I'm not implying it should happen or will happen!

Holy shit, fake Cas was kinda… flaming. Not that Cas himself came off as all that... not. But he had an excuse. Hello, Angel of the Lord. Angels acted fae, right? Or at least, he liked to think that was the reason. After all, gender had to be difficult to understand to a being that didn’t actually possess one. But this guy, wow. Not that Dean had a problem with that. Not anymore. 

The voice thing too. That was just down right fucking disturbing. When they’d first ran into him, he’d been entirely convincing as Cas until the bit about the lines had come up and it was like they’d flipped a switch. Hell, the entire universe was a flipped switch but to see Cas become wholly un-Cas had made his stomach churn worse than seeing the collection of Impala’s in various stages of destruction.

Dean had hesitated when him and Sam had stormed off; wanting to turn tail and apologize for their rudeness. He hated seeing that kind of look on Cas’ face; the hurt and confusion etched over his features. It made him feel horrible knowing he’d gone and hurt someone like Castiel with just a few words spoken without thinking. But, as it stood, Dean had to remind himself that that guy wasn’t Cas that they didn’t have the time. They needed to fix all of this, sooner rather than later. Who knew what kind of shit short was going down back home?

Back on the set; finding out the ingredients for the spell were nothing more than props had been the icing on their cake; a cake made of bat shit crazy. He needed a drink. He needed to hunt something. This universe was getting on his nerves and fast. It was just so… creepy.

***

Their little shopping spree the day before at not-Sam’s place had done quite a lot to calm Dean’s nerve. There’d also been a few sacrifices made by the Padalecki liquor cabinet. They’d been in weirder situations; sometimes even more surreal ones. Never quite this cushy. He just had to swallow down the bad touch vibe and get the job done. That’s how he was coping, yep. Just another job in the life of a hunter; three doubles later and he was sleeping like a baby.

***

“Oh, priority! What’s in it?” Misha asks offhandedly as he flips through the day’s pages; one bud from his iPod stuck in his right ear. After yesterday's prank, he wants to be ready for anything the guys throw at him. He’ll so take one for the team and be the focus of their antics; at least they were talking again. Things had been stressful with two of them speaking only during scenes these last couple of months.

“I bought a part of a dead person.” Jared’s voice has a distinct Samness to it when he replies. It’s terrifyingly convincing and creepy.

Misha does a double take as his eyes widen. He nearly drops his coffee “Oh, cool.” He looks between the box and his fellow actor a few times before his gaze stays on the package. 

***

Dean frowns as he approaches, not-Cas, Misha; he looks like he’s seen a ghost. Scanning their surroundings, he checks just to make sure. The air smells fine if not a bit woodsy from the set construction he’d passed on the way here. So why was there a deeply set look of trepidation on the guy’s face? Weird.

“So, bad news.” Dean can’t help himself, he pauses before continuing; Sam’s job-focused look bleeds off of his face into the kicked puppy dog one. Damn, that smarts. Might as well rip of the bandage quick. “Looks like we’re going to have to do a little acting.”

“What?”

Behind Sam, Misha nearly chokes on his coffee. The look he’s giving Dean is rather blunt in comparison to the confusion he’d witnessed on everyone else’s face. It’s a look that says “Hey Alice, I really don’t want to jump down this rabbit hole with you.” Sad thing is, he can totally understand where the guy is coming from. As weird as all this shit is to the two of them; what must they look like to everyone here?

***

Filming had been a complete nightmare. They were honestly fucking trying their best. But there were so many people staring at them just waiting for them to fuck up. When Bob yells cut at them for what is at least the tenth time, Dean wants to stomp through the set and shove the copy of the script he’d been handed down the man’s throat. But then where would that leave them? 

Sam. Dean smiles to himself. Sam had been hilarious. If the whole incident hadn’t been overshadowed by the fact that some serious angel with a capital A shit was going down back home, he’d have been laughing his ass off for the entire surreal ride. 

And poor Misha, it hadn’t gone unnoticed that he was slowly coming unravelled as each take was cut and redone. The look of exasperation, bemusement and curiosity on his face was so akin to the ones Cas would give them when he didn’t pick up on a pop culture reference or even a human culture reference; Dean found it charming. He even missed the seemingly usual flamboyance of the guy as they headed back to their chairs. Apparently, they were stressing him out?

Dean glances over his shoulder at Misha as Sam tears the script from his hand to flip through some pages. He was typing furiously on his phone; his features still holding that trio of looks. Smiling to himself, Dean returns his attention back to Sam.

“Who writes this? Nobody says penultimate.”

“Gun. Mouth. Now.” In sympathy, Dean folds his hand into the shape of a gun and mocks ganking his own sorry ass.

***.

Misha’s eyes track the back of Jensen’s head at that. It was a rather serious threat at self harm. A guy with as many issues as Jen shouldn’t just go around pretending to blow their head off. No matter how much of it was simply letting off steam. What was going on with these guys? It didn’t seem entirely like something Jensen was going to act on, but one could never be too sure. After all, he’d been acting strangely since the incident with Daneel. 

And the way the two of them were behaving? What the hell was in that box, really? Clearly, it wasn’t the black market organ he’d presumed. They’d left it unrefrigerated for far too long… probably. Was it drugs? Not that that was necessarily a bad thing. However, probably not something you’d want to be on in the middle of a set of a show about monsters, demons, and angels.

“Moving on!” A voice yells from the set.

“Thank, God.” Jared says and nearly bolts from his seat; leaving the package he’d been clinging to behind. Misha has half a mind to lean over and open it up just to see what all the craziness is about. But as out there as they’ve both been, he decides better of it and tweets vaguely about it instead. “IMHO J&J had a late one last night. ROTFLMAO!” 

Misha is playing the role of nonchalant friend as he follows the two men back onto the set for another couple hours of hell. At least there, he can let his energy focus on being Castiel. That is, if Jen or Jared can make it through a single take. 

***

Well, the spell hadn’t panned out. Talk about a walk of shame; they’d gone crashing through the blood painted window and landed promptly on their asses in a pile of fake glass and splintered wood. The wary eyes following him and Sam all the way back to J. Ackles’ trailer; he’d been around demons that gave him less heeby jeebies. 

“Maybe we did it wrong.” Sam sighs as he ducks through the door and into the trailer.

Any other time, Dean would’ve made a crack about growth spurts or bigfoot. But this was really bugging him. “No. No, that spell was perfect. It shoulda worked.” Dean frowns down at the symbol he’d drawn earlier. Had he done something wrong? It was exactly as he remembered it. Had he just seen so many of the damn things that he could tell one sigil from the other these days?

“What if it can’t?” Sam counters. Dean glances up at him in confusion. “Look. I was up all night looking online. There’s no sign that anything like the Apocalypse happened here ever. And as far as I could tell; monsters, ghosts, demons… they’re all pretend.”

“So, nobody’s hunting them?!” Son of bitch. No wonder things were nuts around here. Were people just that dumb that they didn’t notice all the shit that went bump in the night?

“No hunters.” Sam frowns then adds. “Y’know, maybe that’s why our spell didn’t work, Dean. Here, there’s no supernatural. No magic.”

“No demons? No hell? No heaven? No God?” That’s just not possible. How did anyone get up in the morning know that there was just… nothing?

“Something like.” Sam shakes his head and looks away from Dean. “Even better. No angels.”

And if that isn’t a kick in the gut, Dean lets the moment of breathlessness consume him as he looks out the window. If they don’t fix this, he’s never going to see Cas again. He’s never going to have a chance to explain. 

***

Dean had been pretty down since their discussion in the trailer. In the end, they had to do what they had to do. Him and Sam had shown back up on set only to be sent away again due to an emergency conference call. The accusatory gazes and whispers echoing from all corners did not go unnoticed. It was everything Dean had hated about the life of a regular joe. How did Jensen stand it? Whatever. It gave them more time to hash this shit out.

He’d been losing hope and fast. When they finally saw Raphael’s henchman, Virgil, it had actually felt like a godsend. And hey, maybe it was. It never hurt to have a little faith. If only a bunch of assholes hadn’t stopped them from kicking the dick’s mojo-less ass. One highlight of the whole thing had been everyone being too scared to call the cops. Virgil, or the-extra-they’d-tried-to-beat-to-death as the studio had been calling him, had apparently fled and not shown back up on set yet. He probably wasn’t used to having his Angel ass kicked so thoroughly, Dean mused with a smile. Him and Sam had snuck off before the therapist the producers had called in showed up. Last thing they needed at a time like this was a head shrinker. 

But now they were stuck trying to flush the dick out on their own. It would’ve almost been easier if he had shown back up to press charges. “So, checkpoint back here at Ackles’ trailer in a couple hours?” Their cell phones were useless; it would seem their minutes hadn’t jumped universes with them. Go figure. They’d have to go about this old school. A crying shame. It was truly amazing how hunters did anything before computers and phones, really.

First things first, he sussed out a search pattern for his half of the studio lot and begins by clearing the perimeter. He circles in slowly; checking buildings and ignoring the strange looks of the crew. Dean startles when he rounds a corner and nearly runs over Misha. 

The actor’s reaction was a little stronger than his own. He literally scream, like a girl in case anyone was wondering, and jumps back clutching his hand to his chest dramatically. Maybe he’d already heard about Virgil? 

“Hey, M-Misha?”

“Jensen.” Misha swallows and gives him an unassuming once over. He pushes up onto his toes as he checks the immediate area. “Where’s Jared? You two have been attached at the hip the last couple days.” 

“Uh, gigantor has left the building.”

Eyes bugging, Misha leans into his personal space in a way that was entirely too similar to Cas. “Therapist have him committed?” Misha asks his tone hinting at conspiracy. 

“What?!”

He steps back and away. “Oh, nothing.”

“Look. I know we’ve probably been freaking you out.”

“Probably?! Hon, really? Probably?” Misha’s eyebrows have climbed his forehead and his voice has pitched up an octave. 

And it’s doing very funny things to Dean’s stomach. Not to mention other places. He scowls and immediately Misha holds his hands up trying to calm him down. Shit, he hadn’t wanted to scare him. Clearing his throat, Dean shakes his head. “S’alright. I didn’t. We didn’t realize it was… scaring… everyone so much. I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to Jared about it. Get him to call the whole thing… off?” 

If Dean’s words had come out as disjointed as his thoughts, Misha didn’t point it out. In fact, he’s laughing high and bright and Dean can’t help but smile at him. It’s an awesome sound coming from… well, from someone that bears a very passing resemblance to Castiel. 

“You got everyone so good. You have no idea! How long have you guys been planning this one? Cuz, I gotta tell you… they are going to love this at the cons!” Misha’s fallen in step beside him and is suddenly chattering away like the flip-flop Dean just pulled is completely normal. Shit, maybe it was. He didn’t know this Jensen clown. Maybe the dude was actually friends with Misha… hence the quick and easy forgiveness. He doesn’t have the slightest clue.

Dean tries not to scowl. If cons here were anything like cons back home, he could only imagine. “Heh, yeah, well. Without the fans, then where would we all be?” 

“Right?!” 

And wow, Misha is one animated guy. How he managed to button that all down and play a version of Cas in front of a camera was a complete and utter wonder. Dean shoves his hands in his pockets as they walk along. His focus split between scoping out Virgil and listening to Misha go on about some non-profit feed the children business he’d started after realizing the potential that his interactions with the fans had. 

Dean nods when it seems appropriate and keeps silent when he doesn’t have anything to say. He actually kinda wishes Chuck had someone like Misha at the convention Becky had tricked him and Sam into attending. It would’ve been a far cry better than the panels about incest and latent homoeroticism. He shudders at the memory, but it brings an interesting topic to the forefront of his mind. One that he’s actually insanely curious about. 

“Hey, Misha. I know this might come off as a little forward. Maybe even weird.” The actor snorted loudly beside him, but flashes a friendly smile his way. “Are you… gay?”

“I thought you’d gotten over trying to label me a long time ago, Jen.”

Dean’s blood runs cold at Misha’s response. There was looking and sounding like Cas...and then there was saying shit that a version of Cas that nobody but Dean even remembered had said. Was there something of their true selves in all these not-thems? “Right.” He mumbles; refusing to meet the bewildered look he can feel Misha giving him.

“It’s been what a month, two?” Misha asks in a careful tone.

“What?” Dean cuts his eyes at the actor. He has no idea what he’s talking about...again. Not entirely unusual or unexpected here, but the way he’d said it made it sound important.

“Since you and Daneel… split.” Misha presses his lips into a tight line. “You always ask about this kinda stuff after a fight or a break-up, Jen. More so this time. We had this talk already. And I already told you what I think.”

“And that is?”

“That I can’t help you carry this burden or make this kind of decision.” Misha lets out a heavy sigh that doesn’t sound at all like himself. “That, screw what Kripke or the other producers will say. And who cares about Perez Hilton or any of those other leeches might publish. Be yourself, man. No one else can be. And who says that you have to define yourself in such black and white terms. You remember how I explained the Kinsey Scale?” 

Son of a bitch. It sounds like Jensen is coming to terms with some heavy duty shit about being into dudes. It was an eerie mirror. “Wait, I’m the gay one here?”

“Jensen.” Misha scolds him with dark eyes that cause his mouth to go dry. “Don’t start that shit again. Not with me.” He shakes his head. “You and Jared want to keep messing with everyone. fine, I won’t say anything but don’t. Just don’t.”

“10-4.” Dean nods in agreement. He hadn’t really been thinking when he’d spouted off anyway. He’d pretty much just outted himself, or Jensen actually, and Misha hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised. Huh. Interesting.

Misha pauses as they round the corner of a warehouse. He had reached out and gripped Dean’s arm before he’d noticed they’d came to a stop. “I just wanted to say… I’m proud of you, Jen. I know you’d hate a big deal being made out of it so only saying it this once. That was the first time you actually admitted it so… calmly.”

That had been calm?! What kind of phobic dick was this Jensen guy anyway? The hell? “Uh, thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you, man.” Dean pats Misha’s bicep with an awkward smile.

Letting out a huff of laughter, Misha lets his hand drop from Dean. “Uh, huh.”

Dean doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes forward with his search. Even if it seems like Virgil has skipped the joint, he can’t exactly just bail in the middle of a task. He half expects Misha to wander off. It’s a pleasant surprise when he falls back in step beside him.

“What’s really going on? Really, really. First, you and Daneel split. Then you and Jared won’t even speak to each other. There’s rumors of you auditioning for other shows even though your contract for Supernatural isn’t even close to ending. And now, there’s the stunts you and Jared have been pulling. Beating up that extra, which is so obviously staged to try to get yourself fired. And you, all but come out to me and… I’m just a little confused here.” The actor bites his bottom lip before continuing. “And worried. I know you haven’t worked that long with me, not like Jared, but I’d like to think of myself as your friend.” Misha’s eyebrows have knitted themselves into a concerned arch. Dean’s mouth has gone dry again. It’s a feeling he’s not used to experiencing around anyone else but Cas. This guy’s presence is really messing with his head. 

They are a few yards from Jensen’s trailer and there’s a little more than an hour before Sam’s due to check in. He can’t talk about this with Misha with all the extra eyes and ears of the crew following his every move. “Not here.” Dean nods towards the trailer. And Misha follows him inside… of fucking course. Now the only question is: does he come clean or does he lie his ass off?

***

Misha’s leaning up against the fishtank with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s eying the crudely drawn sigil that they’d left out on the table. Dean clears his throat. “Want a beer?”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Misha responds sarcastically. He points to the notepad with the bottle he takes from Dean. “Since when do you bring the nerd stuff home?” He adds air quotes to the word nerd and Dean can’t help but smile. As much of a douche bag as his not-self seems to be, there are some amusing comparisons. 

“Jared and I were working on the, uh…. prank.”

“Really. Jared and you are actually talking? Not just for show?” Twisting the lid off of his beer, Misha brings it to his lips and takes a few long drinks. “That’s so weird.”

“Must’ve sucked for everyone else. The two of us going full-on diva like that?”

His features softening, Misha glances at the floor before lifting his chin to stare Dean down. “If I didn’t know better, Jen. I wouldn’t think you were you right now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just. Wouldn’t.”

He’s avoiding calling him on being a dick. Nice. “Ah.” Dean slumps into a chair at the table. He tosses the notebook over the couch towards the coffee table with a sigh. “Not exactly feeling like myself lately. Truth be told.”

“Or maybe you are.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning. It’s not uncommon to suffer from dysphoria or depersonalization when it comes to gender or sexual identity. And you’ve been in the closet for what? All your life?” He settles across the table from Dean slowly as if he’s waiting to be shouted at or kicked out.

In a past life, that’s probably exactly what Dean would have done. And apparently, so would Jensen. But then, 2014 had happened. “Suppose so.”

Misha lets out a shocked gasp. When Dean looks up at him, he finds the actor studying him intently. 

“What?” Dean feels like a broken record but he can’t exactly play the part if he doesn’t know all the rules and at least half of the details.

“Just like that?”

“Just like what?”

“You accept it just like that? What about all that stuff about it being unnatural and disgusting and wrong? What about all that nonsense about men not being men anymore… about it going against God’s will?”

Dean interupts him at that. “I said that shit?” He can’t fucking believe it. How much of an ass was he here anyway? 

“It was a long time ago, but… yeah. Yeah, you did.”

“I’m.” He seeks out Misha’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Misha averts his gaze from Dean’s. “It was a long time ago. You were drunk. And, you got over it or at least you didn’t repeat it again.”

“Wait, I said it to you?!” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice. And he’s more than a little pissed at Jensen for being such a douche.

“Yeah, Jen. You did. My third week on set. You don’t remember?”

Dean slams his beer down and stands. He takes a few steps towards what passes as the trailer’s living room. This was bad. This was so very bad. He’d been set on playing the role of asshole with Castiel whenever the angel had seemed overly affectionate. He’d even convinced himself that it was a sin. A stretch that hadn’t been that far to come to with their upbringing. And of course, 2014 had derailed that train too. It looks like this not-him counterpart was really more like the old him than he cares to be reminded of. 

“You don’t. You really don’t.” There’s no question in the words. Only a statement. Dean hears Misha stand behind him. “And that time when we were in New York?” He questions.

Turning to face him, Dean is crestfallen. He wishes he could say something to erase the worry, sadness and disbelief on Misha’s face. “No, what’d I do or say in New York?”

Misha stops a few inches from him. His features have morphed into a visage of Castiel as he analyzes him. “Nothing.” He squints at Dean and tilts his head. “We’ve never been... to New York together.” 

Now? Now, Misha is testing him? “Oh.” He focuses on picking at the seam couch beneath his fingers. 

“Do you have amnesia? Fugue states? Are you missing time? Have you seen a doctor? Jen, this is serious.” Misha moves closer and reaches for him.

Oh, this was such a monumental mistake. He shouldn’t never have mixed with the natives. He was getting soft. Dean looks up at Misha intent to deny that anything was wrong. Except, he couldn’t lie to Castiel like that. Yeah, he gets that they weren’t who they were here and that Misha wasn’t Cas but… Damn it. 

If he tells him the truth, he’ll just get upset with him for trying to start up the prank again or worse, think he’s gone crazy. More than anything Dean wants the comfort of the familiar and no questions asked. Apparently that isn’t Misha’s MO. What if they never got back? He had to weigh his option carefully. He couldn’t risk alienating the guy when he was the only thing bearing any resemblance to his life back home. What could he do to delay the oncoming interrogation?

“No, Misha. I’m fine. I just wish that I’d never done any of those things. Guess we’re too old for pretending like none of it happened, huh?”

“You can’t pretend it never happened but you can ask for forgiveness.” Misha suggests placing his hand over Dean’s on the back of the couch. 

“Could you?”

“Could I what? Forgive you?” Dean nods his head stiffly. “Like I said when you came to me after…”

“Daneel.” He attempts to finish Misha’s sentence.

“Daneel… anyone who’s ever been in the closet has said awful things like that.”

“Even you?”

Misha shakes his head and gives a self deprecating laugh. “They’ve pretty much always just been for clothes for me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Dean lets himself really look at Misha. He takes in the kindness that is obvious on his features. There’s a hint of laughter lines at the corner of his eye and the cut of dimples in his cheeks. Take away the drugs and the booze and he could easily be human Cas from the future. He tells himself that is why he is doing what he’s doing. But truth be told, Cas or Misha, there’s just something about the men that he’s drawn to. It feels as certain as any destiny that he’s had shoved at him before. Surging forward, he kisses Misha. The actor opens his mouth to protest but Dean silences him with a desperate whisper. “Please kiss me back.”

He does and Dean feels every strung-out nerve in his body suddenly calm at the sensation. Eyes closed, he reaches up and cups the back of Misha’s neck to hold him in place. His mouth is familiar in a way that nearly breaks Dean’s heart. He’s the silver lining to the reality that they might very well be stuck here. And there is no way in hell that Dean is going to let him go. 

Wrapping his other arm around Misha, he drags their bodies together until the only thing between them is their clothes. He slides his hand up and under the blue t-shirt and sweater Misha’s wearing. The heat of his skin under Dean’s touch feels like coming home. He’s missed this so much. But here, he’s never had this. This is wrong. This is unbelievably wrong. Wrenching himself away, he hangs his head in shame as he makes quick steps to allow some space between the two of them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“Just stop.” Misha’s voice has raised again. “Fuck shouldn’t have. You did and there’s nothing wrong with that, Jen. I didn’t say no.”

“Well, I am.”

“What? Why?”

“I just.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a heavy breath. “I need to wrap my head around it. I mean…”

“So help me God, Jen. If you go off about what will people think. Fuck pacifism. I’ll kick your ass personally.”

Dean gives him a startled look. “No, I wasn’t.” He lies. “I’m still coming to terms with… I don’t want to…” No wonder him and Sam are shit actors here. It seems he can’t lie to save his life and it’s not that far of a reach to assume that Sam’s in the same situation. There’s implications to that that he doesn’t want to even consider. Not to mention, it feels like he’s lying to Cas each time he ends up doing it to this guy.

“Rush things?” Misha offers tentatively.

“Yeah.” Dean answers quickly seeing an out and taking it. “You’re a good… no, an awesome friend, Misha. I really don’t want to fuck that up and this, this right now... so would.”

Misha is nodding with a sad smile on his face. “I think I like the new you, Jen.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around Dean in hug that makes the hunter want to weep. It’s everything he ever wanted from Cas and more. “I should probably go.” Misha offers as he steps away. “Don’t be a stranger… you know where to find me.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and waves it in the air. “Call any time. Night or day. Coming out can be really hard for some. Remember, I’m…”

“There for me. Yeah. Thanks, Misha.”

Nodding, Misha heads for the door. He pauses and gives Dean a reassuring smile before he steps out. Dean falls to the couch with a frustrated groan and waits for Sam to get back from looking for Virgil.


	2. Chapter 2

When he’s drug from his car into a dark alley, Misha decides that it is now officially time to panic. The gun to the back of his head, being held hostage; they were all scenarios he saw himself surviving. This was not. “Okay, okay, okay! Easy! Easy!”

“How do you do it? Live in this grubby, shabby desert?” 

The man is so angry and Mish doesn’t have a clue what to say to calm him down. Why is this happening to him? “Oh, God. Please!” The squelching of their shoes on the wet pavement sounds like a death march. “No, no, no, no. Please.” He whines out desperately.

“Nothing greater than yourselves?” 

Misha dares to look behind them, praying that they’d been followed that someone from the studio had noticed something was wrong when he’d left. He doesn’t see anyone or anything. 

“Nothing but dirt and you die.” 

Perhaps if he gets the guy to talk, it’ll be enough time for someone to find them. “What?” His questioning is ended quite abruptly as he’s shoved against the brick wall. He can’t help the cry of pain that escapes his lips. “Ow!”

“No power. No Magic.”

Magic? Like from the show? Had everyone gone crazy? That wasn’t real! “Please, I’m not following you at all.” This guy’s tirade sounds like how Jensen and Jared had been speaking earlier. Only Jen had admitted to that being a prank. “Oh, God!”

“There’s no magic in the universe.”

No, there wasn’t. At least not the kind this guy was looking for. Misha gives in and finally lets out everything he’d been holding in since the guy had attacked him back at the studio. Sobbing, he offers what little apology he can. “I’m sorry!” The shock of finding out something you’d believed in wasn’t real. That was a hard pill to swallow and he was trying to be sympathetic with the guy even if he had kidnapped him and dragged him off to a dark alley to… “Pleeeaasseee!’ He’s begging for his life now. 

“Nothing but a bag of strings and pulleys.”

“What?” Misha tries to take in a few deep breaths to calm himself. It works if only for a moment. 

“You should thank me for what I’m about to do.”

“Why?” He dares to ask. “Why what are you about to do?” 

“I need to make an important call. I pray to God that it even goes through.” 

He’s not making any sense again. Mishe opens his mouth to try and talk to the man again, to stretch things out until help arrives. Except nothing comes out. He tastes blood and he hurts so much; especially his throat. When the guy starts slamming the blade into his stomach, the tears begin to fall. 

“This is what I’ve been reduced to…”

Misha’s vision goes black.


	3. Chapter 3

Not-Sam’s wife is crying as she yells for them when they get to the house. “Oh my God, Oh my God!”

“What?” Sam asks regarding her a cool detachment. He’s obviously not cozied up with the locals like Dean has. Maybe it was for the better?

“Misha! He’s been stabbed to death!”

Dean’s world falls out beneath his feet. They have to get back now. Screw this place. Misha had been the only tolerable part of it and someone had killed him. Who the fuck would do such a thing?! He looks to Sam. “Where?” They ask in unison. He doesn’t stick around for the bitching out he knows is coming from not-Ruby at what she perceives as their apathy. He doesn’t have time for any of the other assholes in this world anymore. Him and Sam are going home if it is the last thing they do. And if he happens to enact a little revenge for Misha along the way, at least he’ll have done something about it.

***

In the end, he doesn’t tell Sam what had happened between him and Misha. What could would it do to cry over the never weres and never was… again? When they crashed through the window and back into reality, only to be met by Raphael… well, he’s this close to being completely done with all of it. Every single last fucking bit of it. And then the damnedest thing happens, Castiel shows up.

“Step away from him, Raphael. I have the weapons now. Their power is with me.”

Lightning flashes and for the second time since they’ve met, Dean is witness to the dark expanse of Cas’ wings. It takes his breath away. 

“Castiel.” Raphael counters in defiance.

“If you don’t want to die tonight, back off.”

Dean is just as shocked as the next guy when Raphael blinks out of existence. He watches Balthazar approach Cas; hackles rising. It had been nice to see Cas grow a pair and stand up to one of those dicks. 

“And now, Castiel, you have your sword. Try not to die by it.” And he also, flickers out of existence.

Wait, what? Castiel is striding towards them with intent. Dean can’t help it, after the last couple days they’ve had, he takes a step back. The last thing he wants is to be angel dropped into another reality. He wants to know what’s going on.

“Cas, what the hell happened?” Sam beats him to asking and suddenly they are back at Bobby’s house. God damn it. Castiel releases their shoulders and turns away. 

“Wait, you were in on this?!” Sam accuses. And Dean would like to voice his objection to that statement but he can’t. In his gut, he knows. He doesn’t want to, but he does. “Using us as a diversion?!” 

“It was Balthazar’s plan.” Castiel explains with his back still turned to them. He cocks his head and adds. “But I would’ve done the same thing.”

Dean grieves suddenly and deeply for Misha at those words. “That’s not comforting, Cas!” Misha would have laid shit out straight, well straight forward anyway. There wouldn’t be all this cryptic bullshit lying around waiting to be stepped. in.

“When will I be able to make you understand? If I lose against Raphael, we all lose everything.”

“Yeah, Jackass, we know the stakes. That’s about all you’ve told us.” He throws back angrily. If Cas wants a fight, Dean will bring it.

“I’m sorry about all this. I’ll explain when I can.” 

And with that, he’s gone. “Fricking angels.” Dean growls. He’s so tired of all of this. Part of him wishes that they’d never made it back now. And that by some miracle, Virgil had never made it through. It hadn’t been so bad. He meets Sam’s eyes as he makes some crack about how at least they’re talking. With a sad smile, he nods and heads toward Bobby’s stash to fish out a bottle of whiskey for the night. 

Yeah, at least they’re talking.


End file.
